


A Matter of Time

by cornerandchair



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Spoilers, post-season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 22:29:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9789971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornerandchair/pseuds/cornerandchair
Summary: After centuries of work, Stricklander finally has time to reflect and enjoy his time as a human.But it's only a matter of time before that time runs out, this he knows. So he makes the best of it.But sometimes little things in life catch you off guard. The all-too-familiar hair color of a stranger, the ghost of a memory, pieces of conversations...





	

**Author's Note:**

> I love to make myself suffer, so suffer with me.

It seemed like a cosmic joke to him.

Now, only after he knew he was running out of time did he start to really appreciate it.

And now, he had no-one and nothing to spend that time with.

It was the small things that kept him going, though. The sun high in the sky. The way the light glistened off the River Thames. The odd little tea shop he found on its edge. The idle chatter of the people passing by.

One could almost forget.

Were it not for the little jokes played by life.

He’d catch a flash of her red hair in the corner of his eye. He’d hear her voice. Feel the ghost of a touch. A pang would go off in his chest, only for him to remember where he was, where she was, and how he had ruined the first good thing to happen to him in ages.

Or he’d catch a passing conversation:

“Ugh, did you hear about Jim-?”  
“Atlus Shrugged-”  
“It feels like the world’s resting on my shoulders, I swear!”

And he would be reminded of Young Atlus. A boy much too mature for his age. Even before he had taken the mantle of Trollhunter. It made much more sense to him now, why the Amulet would have chosen young James Lake Jr. to be Trollhunter.

Barbara Lake, the overworked, worried mother, and one of the most competent human doctors he’d ever met, even if she couldn’t cook to save her own life. Barbara, the woman he had used for his own gain. The woman he loved. Naive to the things that stalk the night, yet smart and brave and willing to go after a being that could have killed her without a second thought for her son.

James Lake Jr., the teenager, the responsible adult at a too young age. Fighting a battle most adults could not even imagine. Yet his ideals were infectious. He, in his own way, was just and naive as his mother, but it might just be that naivete that drew humans and trolls to him to Fight the Good Fight. He was a force of change in a world that ached for tradition. Not all change was bad, however.

Stricklander looked down at his reflection in the tea cup.

His human glamour was reflected back at him. He had to wonder how long this would last. Jim was a determined scrap of a human, and Sticklander felt no doubt the boy would save all the familiars in the Darklands. He almost felt a sense of pride in the boy.

But the question remained. What would he do after that?

Of course, there was always the possibility of returning. But if he did that where would he stay? Trollmarket would never accept him and his own house was compromised and probably being used by whomever the Order of Janus had replaced him with. There was always-

_“You’re the one thing I’m looking forward to forgetting.”_

No.

That wasn’t an option.

He sipped his tea and glanced out over the River Thames. The sun was starting to set, casting a dark orange glow on the surface of the water as shadows creeped at its edges.

He glanced back at his reflection.

It was only a matter of time.

He might as well try to enjoy his last moments in the sun.

And perhaps one day… Whether his time has ended or not...

One day he might redeem himself enough to be worthy of standing at Jim’s side in The Good Fight.

Or maybe even worthy enough to return to Barbara’s.


End file.
